Against the freezing cold;
A quaint picture,
Painted in the virgin white
Of Snow.
My warm tears rolling down
My cheeks, Melting
The soft snow, both
on my face and
on the ground of
your grave.
Isn't it cruel?
That a soul as beautiful as yours
To be taken away, without a word,
Our last kiss, no, our nonexistent kiss,
Disappearing away into the realm
Of things that could've been, but
Nevermore
On your grave, there is a flower.
Is it you, reborn?
Are you here?
I hold it close to me, my heart,
And I know you feel it.
To quote a great man-
I would gladly enter hell, if
you will be there smiling at me.
But you are not there, where
Are you?
Snowflakes,
They never last.
But the ground that holds you,
Like a womb,
Is Eternal.
You may be gone, but
The memory of your smile,
And your personality is Eternal.
It shines like the sun,
Pouring the warmth,
Over my soul.
I walk out of the graveyard,
A little less afraid, a little more complete,
As I become one with you,
In spirit and in love.
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